


The new Molly Hooper

by Moriartyinthetardis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartyinthetardis/pseuds/Moriartyinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is getting pretty tired of running around after Sherlock. Then she meets  someone so irrationally special, and she doesn't feel quite so alone anymore. But how will Sherlock take to the new confident Molly Hooper</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first fanfiction so be nice and feel free to leave a constructive comment below. Thanks :D

Molly Hooper was always reliable. She secretly prided herself on that fact. But as she missed yet another lunch date she knew she was only really consistantly reliable with one person.  
Sherlock.  
"C'mon molly" was all she needed to be dragged back into the lab for some crazy experiment needed for some stupid case. Sherlock and John would get her up at all hours and she had no idea why she let them. John would smile sympathetically at her weak protests. He knew as well as anyone how much she was in love with Sherlock.  
Sherlock sat down at a microscope and disappeared into his mind palace. The silence was deafening. John picked up the newspaper, occasionally throwing Sherlock an anxious glance. She fidgeted. She couldn't help but stare at his luxurious black hair and refined cheekbones. She just had to say something. "I'm getting some crisps, do you want any?" John shook his head but looked up at Sherlock expectantly. Sherlock didn't answer. "Er, no of course you don't" and darted out of the lab. She breathed a sigh of disappointment and shook her head miserably. God, she really needed to stop obsessing over Sherlock Holmes

*******

The door clicked shut. John peered through the window of the door to see if Molly was gone.  
"Sherlock," he began.  
"What?" muttered Sherlock impatiently. His eyes didn't stray from the microscope.  
"Molly"  
"What about her? demanded Sherlock looking confused  
"You treat her terribly, try and be nice at least now and then." replied John. Rolling his eyes Sherlock ignored him and left the lab, to chase up another crazy theory, his coat swishing after him.

*********

Molly selected some crisps - plain ready salted - and shoved her money into the slot. St Barts morgue was quiet except for the grinding of the machine I front of herand the occasional door slam. Loud, purposeful footsteps began up the corridor. Hoping it would be Sherlock she looked up, just in time to see a black coat whip out of sight.  
Great just great, now she would have to clear up the lab. John would do his best but he was always chasing after Sherlock. Too busy to notice little else. She swiveled back to the vending machine. Only to be greeted by another surprise  
A man in a deep plum suit lent against the wall casually. He good looking with a square jaw that was showered in a light stubble and deep brown eyes. He ran a hand through his darj hair and smiled cheekily. He had subtle tan and white even teeth  
"Hey," he said, his voice was deep and slightly clipped with a Scottish accent.  
"Oh um, hey," she replied, "Molly."  
"Nice to meet you Molly, I'm Chris" he extended his hand, which she shook. "Trying to give smoking is costing me far too much money, I replace chocolate with cigarettes." he chuckled. It was deep and throaty. He pulled a face like a naughty schoolboy who relished breaking the rules Yet his eyes never left her face. The machine ejected her crisps  
"Oh um," she smiled awkwardly and walked back to the lab. She cringed at herself for only stuttering at this gorgeous guy.  
"HEY!" she span back round. "You forgot your change" He dropped the coins into her hand. For a naughty school boy he had incredible manners, she thought   
"Um, oh, er, sorry, thanks" she mumbled and shoved open the door to the lab. She could've died of embarrassment. Perfect, she thought, another stunner to mess up infont of.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly felt as though she had barely stumbled into her flat before she was stumbling out of it. Though, it was a feeling she had grown used to. She was always tired. Always only just scraping by on the rent and always, always desperate to see Sherlock. Wednesday started like all other days. Another busy day at work and another disturbed night. She dragged her heavy bag into the locker room. A couple of other pathologists where chatting as the pulled on thier white coats. They had become accustomed to her sleepless state and few insisted she get more rest. All but two exchanged meaningful looks and left shortly after she arrived. Annie, rolled her eyes at Molly's bloodshot eyes and withdrawn complexion. George sighed and drummed his fingers on his pink mug of tea.

"You really need to get some sleep, all you ever do is work" said George, examining the dark circles under Molly's eyes. He was one of the rare people she encountered that didn't insult Sherlock. He finished preening himself and turned to fish out a make up bag for Molly.

"He whistles, you run." muttered Annie snidely, "Every time." She flicked the fridge shut with her bony hand and flattened her lifeless black hair to her head. Leaning against the fridge, she looked completely dismayed. An expression that she resereved for when she was just with Molly.

"I don't - He doesn't-" she stuttered, limply. George silenced her by applying lipstick to her slightly chapped lips. Another thing she had grown accustomed to, George insisting she at least try and not seem as though she was dead on her feet. Molly just never had time to eat or drink quite enough. It was George's attentive care that stitched her back together in the mornings. And lipstick.

"Speak off the devil," groaned Annie, folding her thin pointed arms across her flat chest. Sherlock appeared at the door. He hovered so he was only half in the room, as if convinced he was be infected by their inferior intellect. After eyeing George confusedly, and completely dismissing Annie and her glowering looks, he turned to Molly. It made her feel so good to be the sole object of his attention.

"Molly, I need to use your lab," he said simply.

"Right, yes, um, coming Sherlock," said Molly. She shoved her bag into her locker and grabbed her keys. When she looked round, Sherlock was already striding down the corridor and Molly scampered off after him. She ignored Annie's appraising looks. George, lent against the door frame and unashamedly eyed Sherlock up and down.

"I don't know what she sees in him," said Annie, tartly.

"I do," replied George, with a cheeky wink. Sighing in revulsion, Annie swept out of the locker room. Another days work. Another dead body. Or in Sherlockian terms, another case.

 

*******

 

Molly expected the lab to be locked. But when the at the door, it was wide open. The lights were on. Huh, that's odd, though Molly. Only she and the cleaning staff had keys to her lab. Of course Mycroft did too, but he didn't really count. Mycroft never does. John's rarely heard laughter floated out of the lab. Molly crept cautiously around the stale white door. Inside was something she really did not expect to see. Chris. He turned as she entered and smiled. A fantastic, heart warming, ice melting smile. As if she had made his day just by being there. He was wearing the same suit, but it was wrinkled and his tie was shoved into his trouser pocket. Obviously, he had got as little sleep as she had. Sherlock remained frozen behind her. Sculpture still. The corner of John's mouth twitched - a shocked Sherlock was not something anyone expected to see.

"Chris, hi!?" she said, pulling her mouth into a confused smile. He grinned sheepishly. He looked like a naughty schoolboy again. "What are you doing here?" She stopped herself from adding a wounded "In my lab!" Geez, Sherlock's rudensss must have really rubbed off on her. Sherlock still hadn't moved.

"Well, I'm the new middle man, I guess," he raked a hand through his hair. "I work with the Police and St Barts to ensure the forensic evidence doesn't get ... er .. an unauthorized holiday." Molly blushed, she had been passing on evidence to Sherlock for ages. No matter how much she tried to insist it came back in one piece, it never quite worked. She bit her lip, hoping the beetroot her skin had turned wasn't too much of a give away. Chris winked, and smirked slightly. He wouldn't tell anyone, would he? "I found out you worked here and, well, my Dad as used to say - you should never let a pretty girl out of you sight, there aren't that many left." Molly went purple! Her eyes shot to her shoes and she sneaked a glance at him from through her fringe. He just smiled even more. Sherlock unfroze and opened his mouth to say something - more like deduce - but Molly cut across him. He frowned at her and went over to sulk through a microscope.

"So, how did you get the keys?" she asked, walking over to stand on the other side of the bench.

"Oh, I have keys to all labs," he shrugged, "In a room of locked doors the man with the key is king." He held up his full key ring at her. Sherlock looked up. His eyes narrowed and pupils dilated. Molly paid close attention to those gorgeous eyes. And his perfectly formed jaw. And his luxurious - no, Molly stop it! She glanced at John. He frowned. He'd seen too, she was sure.

"Where did you work before?" said Molly, trying to keep herself distracted.

"I worked at, well," he sighed "I guess I didn't really." Molly's brow furrowed. "I mean, not officially. I worked for Mycroft Holmes, so I can't really talk about that." Molly titled her head in slightly-opened mouth comprehension.

"You work for Mycroft?" said Sherlock, coldly.

"Yes, well used to," he hesitated as though about to say something else. Sherlock's gaze analyzed every inch of the man in front of him. "Before you ask Sherlock, your brother didn't send me here to spy on you."

"How did you know they were related?" said John, curiously. He let the newspaper page fall from his grip.

"Can you not see the resemblance?" said Chris confusedly. Molly stared at him and shook her head. Mycroft was slightly overweight, ginger, balding and lacked Sherlock's impressive bone structure. "They have the same, er," he looked at Molly as though searching for the word. He snapped his fingers in realization. "They have the same forced posture."

"Posture?" said John, incredulous. He shook his head at Sherlock disbelievingly. Sherlock, however, was staring at Chris as though he was an alien.

"Yeah, posture. Look at the way he stands, shoulders far to perfectly placed to be natural. Mycroft is the same. They were brought up in a suffocatingly upper class world, right? No one really stands like that unless they are in the army. And i think it's safe to say, neither of the Holmes brothers would last in the army." replied Chris. John - smirking slightly- tilted his head and looked at Sherlock. Sherlock looked at them both, offended and slouched to prove it. "Aye, you no I am right."

"You posture however gives away much more than you relations," retorted Sherlock. John stiffened. Molly froze. Sherlock glanced at her and hesitated. Chris raised an eyebrow challenging. Oh God, though Molly, Sherlock was going to scare Chris away by telling him his life story. Only with all the good bits taken out. "Your right shoulder blade is stuck out through your shirt - obviously you've taken some sort of beating. Not through work though, it's an old wound. Gangs? Mugging? Abusive father? Most likely. You slept in that suit, 3 maybe 4 hours. You suffer from insomnia, probably from a child hood trauma; same as the beating? I'd say so. And then there is your accent. It's not a natural Scottish accent is it? You probably moved there after you were taken into care away from your abusive father who may or may not have gone to jail. Am I wrong?" Sherlock had an glint in his eye - he knew he was right. No need to ask.  
Chris hung his head for a moment. His left hand clenched for a second. He looked up at Molly, who swallowed nervously. Most people would have blown a fuse by now. John and Sherlock exchanged confused and angry looks. Chris turned back to them.

"Knowledge is power you know," replied Chris, he pulled a smug face showing off his white teeth, "And you just fired blanks." Sherlock frowned, his invisible fury palpable in the air. "See you around John. It was nice to see you again, Molly." Chris left the lab and shut the door. Molly waited until his footsteps had finished echoing down the corridor.

"SHERLOCK!" His head snapped up at Molly's venomous tone. "That was horrible - even for you!"

"Yeah, c'mon not everyone is here to get at you," said John reproachfully. She turned and stormed into the stocked cupboard and breathed heavily. Why couldn't Sherlock just switch off for one minute?

Outside a hushed conversation carried on.  
"Sherlock," hissed John keeping an eye on the cupboard door.

"What?"

"This is one of those times when you say 'not good'."

"Why John? I was informing you of deductions you had clearly missed."

"He was nice and only trying to do his job. Molly is one of the only people round here that actually likes us so watch your mouth." John's temper was rising uncontrollably. The nerve of this man, he thought, was unbelievable. Actually he could believe it - it was Sherlock. "Scientifically impossible." "So what he worked for Mycroft? He is the British government; he was probably just a minor civil servant and he's just left this lab thinking your ... very unusual. And extremely childish" "Why do you care so much about what people think?" "Why don't you care enough?" "Why should I care about the likes of him? "Well, Molly cares about him and you just upset her!" At this Sherlock stopped. John moved back to his paper at Sherlock's lack of response. He didn't want upset Molly. If she didn't let them into the lab he would have no way of analyzing forensic evidence. But as was that the only reason why he couldn't bear to see her upset? Was that why he hesitated?  
A moment or so later,Molly left the lab, hiding her face. Sherlock opened his mouth to call after her _ what he didn't know. But she closed the door. The slam seemed to reverberate through him.

***********

The canteen at St Barts was dreadful. The food was tasteless and if she didn't work so late she'd avoid it all together. That was Annie was so thin.  
"Eat something Annie for Christ's sake your practically none existing," chastised George. Molly was sitting down at the rubbishy plastic chairs to the usual argument. Her scowl startled the others into silence and her food sloped around in its bowl. A minutes after she had sat down, Sherlock appeared at the door. His pale face scanned the room for her. If Molly hadn't been slouching over her food, she would've noticed the unusual expression on his face. One that had probably never been on his face before. One of worry and sadness and shame. A few members of staff smirked into what was supposed to be stew. They mocked Sherlock. Called him a freak, something Molly just couldn't bear to stand around and listen to. A muffled voice - probably John - called for him and he disappeared. The slight hush that had befallen the room vanished as he did.  
"Rose glasses come off then, have they?" sneered Annie.

"Oh shut up," snapped Molly. Annie stared at her. She never rose to Annie's challenges. Never, not once. She and George exchanged a look. Molly shoved her tray away from her in frustration. "He always says the most horrible things. Always." She put her head in her hands.

"What did he say this time?" asked Annie.

"He just, that new guy Chris, he was horrible to him. It must have really embarrassed him," she moaned. A hand covered her shoulder. She assumed it was George but the voice belonged to a person whom she had not expected.

"It's okay - what he said is public record, I don't mind," said Chris soothingly. She stared up at him. He smiled back. He was holding to mugs of sweet smelling coffee. "Do you mind?" He indicated to the chair. She shook her head numbly. He sat down and placed a mug in front of her. Annie had eyed Chris' angular jaw line with gaping eyes. George winked at her conspiratorially.

"C'mon Annie, we better be getting back to the lab - lots of things to dissect!" He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her from the canteen. Chris suppressed a smile.

"Wow, I don't know anyone to be that cheerful in a morgue."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Molly hesitated. "Are you, um sure you don't - about earlier-?" Her half formed question hung in the air.

"Don't worry about it - I used to work for Mycroft remember? I can get used to working with a new Holmes," He wrapped his big hands round the mug and blew gently on the tea. Lying on a Polygraph had been easier, he thought. "Besides, this Holmes has friends - he can't be that bad." At this Molly bit her lip, Sherlock would like to think he didn't have friends. Just people that tolerated him. Chris spotted her worried looking face. For someone so young she had seen far too much death. He searched for words that could console her.

"Most people like Sherlock round here," she muttered miserably.

"I'm not most people."

He tapped their mugs together and took a gulp of tea. He had a feeling that Molly Hooper wasn't most people either.


End file.
